Hive Mind
by Wicked Thespian
Summary: Changed the title from 'Addicted to You' to 'Hive Mind'. Seemed more applicable at this juncture. Chapter 4 is up! Remember how the last chapter alluded to one hell of a fight? Well. Here it is.
1. Graveyard Shift

**(Hello, FanFiction world! It's been a while since I've been here, hasn't it? What's brought me back? Repo! The Genetic Opera, oddly enough. After falling in love with it I remember that Anthony Stewart Head was also a part of one of my 'childhood' loves: Buffy the Vampire Slayer. So of course, like a consumer whore, I get back into watching BtVS and here I am, writing a fanfic. Good little anecdote, right? **

**So this story is mostly for me and my whims, but I thought I'd share it and get some feed back and... just be active on here again. I mean, it's been well over a year since my last upload. If anyone has any requests for one shots or something from me, since I've been so inactive and I feel bad about it, feel free to post them in the reviews. ^^**

**As always, reviews are loved. Unless you're a jackass. Then I don't want to hear it. Yeah, that's right. You heard me.**

**On to the story! I really hope you like it. So far, I've really gotten a kick out of writing it.)**

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Chapter One: Graveyard Shift  
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The graveyard was as the graveyard usually was: dark and creepy. The silver moon made the area glow, a strange ethereal luminescence that radiated from nothing and everything, seeping through the darkness and playing among the mist. That inexplicable fog was a staple in its own right, coiling around headstones and moving listlessly of apparently its own volition, with not even the slightest of breezes to help it crawl along the ground in its creepy, inexorable way. The headstones and trees of the cemetery cast long shadows stretching across the already dark ground, though the tips of each blade of grass were already whitened by the first frosts of early morning.

The two patrollers moved quietly, though neither put much thought into it. It was an almost natural gait now, as effortless as the steps that moved them through their duties by day. Cautious, light footed, but firm. One came to a stop, an exasperated sigh puncturing the silence, his irritation finally too much for him to contain. He ran a hand through his light brown hair, his hand finding it's way to his ear, where he picked off his glasses and held them in front of him, his other hand producing a tissue from his pocket which he used to clean the prescription lenses.

"I must confess," he said, his voice soft and intoned with an English accent, his words coming out thoughtfully and with some effort, "I am quite disappointed in you, now that you've told me everything. Or what I can only hope is everything, anyway."

"Oh, that's everything," she returned, shaking her head and brushed a stray wisp of blonde hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear, "but it's not like you can blame us, _Ripper_. You're our role model. It's not like you've never been irresponsible."

"You're well aware that those were different times, and under different circumstances. My recklessness was part of my character, and not something I'm particularly proud of. I'd much rather not bring it up, thank you, because it won't distract me from the point at hand. _You _are much more responsible than I ever was, and you know it."

"Ah," the pretty young woman said, eyeing her older companion critically. Her eyes flashed with something close to annoyance, though beneath that there was nothing but affection and mockery, "so we're only allowed to talk about _my_ mistakes-"

"Yes," he interrupted, cutting off her snide remark before she could make it. She looked at him in surprise and he stared back at her challengingly, doing his very best not to crack a smile. This was serious, after all. She was in trouble, "because your mistakes are much more timely, and of much greater import, don't you think? Besides, dodging the subject with such juvenile tactics as 'well, you did it first' is a bit unbecoming of my Slayer. I would like to believe you've been taught better than that."

"You mean you'd like to think _you've_ trained me better than that. You want me to act like _your_ slayer. Whenever I do something a real person might do, you get all twitchy and British."

"Unfortunately for your argument., I do know you are all too human, and that I am all too British," he shook his head ruefully, breathing in through his teeth to keep from huffing at her. A growl alerted him to danger nearby, and the subject was, at least for the moment, dropped. A snarling vampire emerged from the shadows behind Buffy, its once human face mutated grotesquely by its bestial desire for blood.

Rupert Giles pulled a stake from a pocket within his overcoat, tossing to his Slayer without hesitating, or even alerting her of its coming. She had turned to face the vampire, and though she did not see the sharpened piece of wood making its way to her she lifted her hand and snatched it out of the air, bringing it around with great momentum and driving it into the vampire's chest without missing a single beat. With a grunt and a stunned widening of the eyes the vampire turned to dust, Slayer and Watcher resuming their patrol and conversation as if the encounter hadn't even happened.

"The fact remains," Giles said, his voice nothing more than a sigh of exasperation, "even a 'real person' would not have acted so, for lack of a more delicate word, stupidly."

Buffy Summers eyed her Watcher sharply, the game losing its fun. She was a great many things, but 'good with being called stupid' was not among her more finely tuned personality traits. Glaring at Giles, she considered how she wanted to respond to his taunting. Punching him in the face probably wasn't the most rational reaction, though she imagined it would make her feel pretty good. Kicking him in the shin, or just below the belt, were also less than reasonable. Time was passing and she was missing her opportunity to be curt, shaking her head to snap herself out of thinking about it and into action.

"So's your face!"

Giles blinked at her, expression falling. He tilted his head to one side and she stared back at him, her resolve wavering the longer they stared. A choked snort broke the silence, Giles pursing his lips as his eyes brightened with the laughter he was trying so hard to suppress. Shaking his head, he held up his hand and tried to restore some order. Buffy was grinning at him, sensing her victory was near. He couldn't stay angry at her for too long.

"There's that petulance again," he said, referring to her school yard insult, "Buffy, you understand why I'm so disappointed in you, don't you? To play with those kinds of magicks, after all that's happened. What you know about me, and all that Ethan's showed you. To tell me you were curious, despite, or what's worse _because_ of all that? And for Xander and Willow to have no qualms about it, or at least not enough to stop you three from doing it… I feel I've been preaching to empty pews all this time. I can't believe that you lot were really that impressionable. You're all adults. You chose to, and that is what truly renders me speechless."

Buffy looked up to catch his eye, seeing the depth of his disappointed and wincing a bit. She had to change the tone, which she tried with another stab at comedy. It had almost worked just now, after all, "that theoretical kind of speechless where you still use a lot of words?"

Giles stared at her. After a beat, "you're not a child."

"I'm not acting like a child."

"Yes you are. A stupid one."

"You keep calling me stupid! I'm not some little kid you can just bully with your insults and your disappointment, Giles. I'm not stupid. I'm the Slayer, and I'm powerful. So are my friends. We handled it, and no one got hurt. At least we didn't kill anyo-" She tried to stop herself but the words were already out of her mouth, without any way of being recalled. Giles swallowed hard, as if he had just been punched in the gut, and he took a heavy step back, nodding at her.

"Yes, I suppose you only truly screw up if it results in a dead body. Anything less than that is perfectly acceptable behavior. Good show: I seem to have forgotten that clause. Forgive me for my trespass, I had no right to judge you when I am so clearly the wrong-doer in this situation. Considering how much a part of all that I was, despite not being there," he looked hurt, his words acidic and incomprehensibly sad. He frowned, his eyebrows moving together as he tried his best to remain dignified, "that was cruel, Buffy. You know what I meant, and you had no right- no, it's senseless. This is senseless. I won't justify you with an apology, though I shamefully feel compelled to. I will not be made to feel bad for your foolhardy mistakes."

Buffy swung her fist at him then and he ducked, seeing the attack coming with just enough time to spare. Her fist sailed just above his head, connecting with shattering force to another vampire's jaw. The pointy toothed dead man did not fall, a sturdy creature of the night, but he was no match for the duo. From his crouch Giles kicked the legs out from under the vampire, making him fall forward toward the Watcher and Slayer. Buffy had the stake from before in her hand, tossing it to Giles and allowing him to burying into the vampire's heart with relative ease. The force of his fall against the momentum Giles created by standing was more than enough to make dust of the enemy.

Getting to his feet, Giles patted down his coat and loosened the clinging vampire bits from his clothes. Buffy watched him, kicking at the grass remorsefully. Too proud to come out with an apology, she heaved a sigh and moved next to him, once again resuming their patrol. Duty came before personal conflict. They both knew it, but it was becoming harder and harder for them.

"We seem to be bickering quite a bit," Giles said, a bit winded. Buffy nodded, surprised but glad that he offered a peace treaty by breaking the silence first.

"It's okay."

"That wasn't an apology," he remanded, "but yes, I suppose it's only natural. With all the time we spend together. I do worry about you terribly, you know."

"That 'daddy Giles' thing is probably a big part of it, too," Buffy said with a sagacious nod. Giles, not wanting to take all the blame, opened his mouth to counter the statement. The Slayer let out a happy yelp and waved, running forward. Giles watched her as she moved toward another duo of young people, her partners in crime. Discomfited, wondering if he should just drop the matter entirely, he followed her and approached the trio, nodding his hello to the second half of their team. Xander Harris and Willow Rosenberg seemed as content as ever, oblivious to the dark air the seemed to be smothering Giles and Buffy.

"You two look upset. Are you upset? You haven't been fighting again, have you? I hate it when you fight. It doesn't feel… right." Willow looked at the two of them forlornly, offering a thin smile in hope that it might dissolve all their troubles. Giles placated her by smiling back.

"Family squabble?" Xander chimed, looking down at Willow with a knowing grin. He shrugged, slowly shaking his head from side to side sadly. Such a same, to see the family being pulled apart, "daddy always fights with his _favorite_. Makes me glad I'm a disappointment. Not worth the effort."

Giles said nothing, looking toward the sky for some help. There was no stopping them now.

"Wait, does that make me a disappointment?" Willow asked, feigning misery. Turning to Giles desperately, she looked at him with what had to be the best impression of a wounded puppy and human being was capable of, "Daddy! Xander is being mean again! He called me a disapp-"

"Shut up, am not!" He moved to Giles as well, bumping Willow with his shoulder petulantly, "Dad, you need to get yourself busy and make me a brother. These sisters are _killing me_. All drama and hormones! I need a brother, dad! You're too old to be my friend. You don't count."

"There's always Spike," Buffy said, glad to escape the previous conversation with some old fashioned playing, "maybe Daddy will adopt him for you. He likes having kids around to mold after himself and be annoyed with, after all. The more the merrier!"

"If you lot were my children I'd take you each over my knee for all the grief you give me. A shame there are rules about that sort of thing in his bloody country." Giles said, giving up and looking at them each for a long, contemplative and vaguely threatening moment.

"Now, would we be taking turns, or is this a group knee-going-over?" Xander asked, snapping back and holding up his hands, "because I've gotta say, either way it's going to be awkward for me. I'm just not that comfortable with the abusive father thing. Way to ruin the game, Giles."

"Who's our mommy?" Willow asked suddenly. The trio exchanged puzzled looks.

"It might be Joyce," Xander said carefully, making sure to watch for any signs of 'going too far' from Buffy's face. Willow nodded emphatically, gasping like it was the perfect fit, and only logical conclusion.

"It might be," Buffy breathed with some hesitation, "they did have sex a couple of times."

Willow and Xander looked startled, not knowing if the game was still on or if they had just been witness to something terrifying. They looked at Giles, desperate for a confirmation or denial, but he had already turned his back to them. He was silently walking back across the foggy graveyard, shaking his head and swinging his arms listlessly in defeat. Mortified, Willow could only blink. Xander grinned, a modicum respect for the old British dog flickering in his eyes, then turned back to the remaining members of their little gang.

"So, what now? More patrolling? I think Giles just called it a night."

"Let him go if he wants to. He's been whiny tonight, anyway. Being a big jerk by making me feel guilty with his whole 'right about everything' routine. I hate that," Buffy sighed, admitting it to them instead of the man that needed to hear it, "no, we should keep at it. I don't think he needs any more reasons to be mad at us. Besides, we're out here anyway. Just another night of partying for us, huh?"

Xander hooked his arms around Buffy and Willow's necks, slouching between them and looking from side to side, smiling broadly at his two favorite ladies, "well I know I wouldn't want to be any where else."

"Like asleep in bed? Not even there?" Willow asked, yawning and walking in step with Buffy, to keep from dropping Xander, "because, as much as I love you guys… I'm still pretty wiped. From, you know. Oh. Was that why he was so… not happy? You told him about the spell? I don't like mad Giles very much. Maybe I should go catch up to him and apologize… he's going to think it was my fault, and-"

"No, Willow, it's fine. I told him how everything happened. If anything he blames me more than you guys. I'm the big boss lady, after all. Just give him tonight, and we'll see if he's not so mad at us tomorrow."

The red headed witch nodded slowly, not looking particularly convinced that this was the best plan. She looked back over her shoulder, struggling to see over Xander's arm, to where Giles had disappeared. She shuffled along almost unwillingly, her idea still in her head. She trusted Buffy's judgment, though, and if the big boss lady said Giles needed a night to himself, Willow wasn't going to argue. Sighing, feeling more guilty than she thought possible, or fair in a cosmic sort of way, she looked back to the road ahead of her.

Just in time to see something distinctly not-vampire leap into their path. The three came to a uniform halt, Xander releasing them as Buffy took a challenging and protective step forward, fists up and ready. Willow shirked back on instinct, drawing a breath and steeling herself. Xander followed Buffy's lead, standing like a sentinel in front of Willow, while the Slayer stood in front of him.

Willow sincerely hoped the demon didn't get through the first line of defense.

"What is that thing?" she called unhelpfully, at the exact moment that the demon decided to lunge at Buffy. Occupied, the Slayer didn't answer right away, catching the demon mid attack and grappling with it. It moved like some sort of animal, crouching and using its powerful back legs to lunge, while swinging its heavy arms. They were equipped with thick wrists and cruel looking articulated claws, which, despite its lumbering, it seemed to be able to deftly move. It tried to slash at Buffy, who had to keep her body and legs as far back as possible to save herself from being ripped open, keeping it at a distance by placing her hands firmly on its shoulders. It was smaller than a human, its reach just short of the flesh it wanted so much to rend.

"A weapon, anyone?" Buffy called, grunting as the demon heaved itself out of her grip. It swung and she caught the claw with her hand, letting out a cry as the nails tore into her skin effortlessly, blood dripping quickly. "Some time within the realm of now, please!"

Xander pulled a knife from his belt, the hilt getting stuck on a loop in his pants, and he tossed the blade to Buffy. She caught it and jammed it into the demon's chest. It let out a terrible screech, shoving her back and fleeing as quickly as its legs could take it.

"Geez, Roadrunner would be envious!" Xander whistled, hurrying with Willow over to help the Slayer back to her feet. He looked at her hand, the wound not appearing too bad, despite the blood, "are you okay?"

"Yeah," she was distracted, staring after the demon, though it was long gone by now. Shaking her head, she turned her concerned expression toward the others, "I've never seen that guy before. And it was strong."

"I know that face. That's 'research' face." Willow nodded.

"You mean 'get no sleep because we're staring at books we don't understand' face," Xander sighed, accepting the inevitable with a whine.

"Come on," Buffy said, favoring her hand by holding it against her chest. She began to move back the way they had come, taking note of where they had wandered for when they would return. And they would. She was not the kind of Slayer to leave a demon unhunted.

She was too good at her job for that.


	2. Entertaining Interlopers

**(Chapter two! More fun to be had. Still loving the way this feels, just writing again. ^^)**

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Chapter 2: Entertaining Interlopers  
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Morning always seemed to come too early.

Groggy, Giles rolled himself out of bed and found his slippers by his bed, reaching out without opening his eyes to grab his robe and tug it on. There was a bit of a chill in the room, and he was surprised by it. The night before it had been stuffy, forcing him to sleep in his boxers just to give his tired muscles some relief. Still moving on impulse, the routine of morning ingrained in his muscles, he stood and dragged himself to the door. First matter of business was a cup of tea. Trudging downstairs, yawning profoundly, he made his way into his kitchen. Glimpsing himself in the reflection of the kettle he noted his hair was fluffy and ruffled, his unshaven face giving him a distinctly rumpled appearance. All to be dealt with after his cup of tea.

Heating the kettle, he wandered to the front door to fetch the paper, noticing that it was not on his stoop after bending to retrieve it. Blinking, he moved back inside and shut the door, spotting the folded paper on a stand near the entryway. Picking it up, he returned to the kitchen to answer the call of the whistling kettle. Drink in hand, paper under his arm, and no questions in his head, he wandered into the living room.

"Good morning Giles!" A happy, warm voice greeted. It was familiar and friendly, and Giles smiled.

"Good morning, Willow," he said nonchalantly, sipping at his tea carefully before sitting slowly down into the cushioned sofa. He didn't look up, unfolding his paper. Xander was sitting beside him, Buffy and the former revenge demon Anya camped on the floor. Willow and her companion Tara were sitting in chairs they had pulled up around the coffee table. There was even a vampire in his home, sitting in the corner away from the windows, glowering at the scene in an apparent grump about something. Giles took another sip of his tea before the scene finally penetrated his sleep addled brain. Swallowing hard, coughing as he looked up sharply, he struggled to find words.

"Don't choke, old man," the peroxide blonde vampire called out, his sharp British accent curling in a snarl of sarcasm. Giles looked at him, then over at a window pointedly. Spike shut up, sneering.

"What's going on here?" Giles finally managed to spit out, covering his mouth as he coughed. It was mostly a motion to hide his shocked face, though they had all clearly seen his embarrassment and confusion, "how did you get in here… en masse?"

"Research," Buffy said with a shrug. Xander nodded.

"You just let yourselves in, then? Giles asked, still stuck on the fact that there were six people in his house that he hadn't invited in, eating his food and rummaging through his books. They all had cups and plates around them, Spike even using his favorite mug for what Giles could only assume was blood. Sighing, he looked down at the mug he was using for his tea. It hadn't even registered to him. He had thought his regular one had been in the sink for a wash, or placed and forgotten somewhere in the house as he was often wont to do. Now it looked like he was going to have to find a new favorite tea cup.

"We always do," Xander shrugged, reaching for the coffee table and taking a cookie they had ransacked his cupboards to find. Giles bowed his head, sipping listlessly from his cup and trying to find a happier place in his head.

"You didn't answer when we knocked," Willow added, though Giles did his best to not hear her. She was not a part of his happy place, even if she was trying to justify their breaking and entering.

"Maybe you should start locking your door," Another voice, this one even further away from Giles's mental isolation, added. Anya had a knack for pointing out what should have been obvious, and making everyone around her either feel particularly stupid or very confused. For the former librarian it was the former. He could have sworn he had latched the bolt, but sometimes he failed to. He had actually gotten into the habit of leaving the door unlocked for exactly this reason: just in case they needed to come over for something important, and he wasn't able to answer the door. He could have kicked himself for being so prepared.

"Perhaps I should," Giles breathed, standing and not looking at any of them. He retreated into the kitchen without another word, leaving them whispering and giggling behind him. He pulled his robe tighter around him, looking down at the kettle and using it as a guide for trying to tame his hair. Shaking his head in defeat, he abandoned his barely touched cup of tea and escaped back up the stairs, slipping into his room and shutting the door tightly. The bathroom adjoining was a welcomed sight, and he quickly showered, shaved, and completed whatever morning tasks he had been forced to waylay by the unexpected company.

Hair slicked back with water, he returned at length to the unwelcomed congregation, dressed in a simple sweater and jeans. Those that were not too busy with their duties, or too vampyric in pride, looked up and smiled at him. He could see in their eyes that each one had a different reason, though he couldn't fathom what was going on in their heads. Embarrassed and out of sorts, the flustered Englishman returned to his seat beside Xander and reached for a book that was sitting uselessly near the younger man.

"Researching what, then?" He said, glancing down at the page. There was a picture of a demon, but no real extensive description of it. Apparently this creature was not easy to document. It looked vicious, more animal than the human-esque ones they were getting used to dealing with. "What a pleasant looking fellow," he said thoughtfully, scanning over the text around the image and frowning at the lack of information.

"We ran into it after you left," Buffy said, making no attempt to hide her irritation, "it was pretty strong, too. We could have used another pair of hands."

"Yes, well," Giles blustered, "you all seem to be largely unscathed, regardless. Did you kill it?"

"It got away. Buffy made with the stabby, but it just ran off. It was pretty fast," Willow said with a frown. Xander nodded, continuing.

"Yeah, it got major points for grit determination. It was like it had somewhere to be, and the razor sharp knife sticking out of its body might as well have been a cute little bunny sticker for all it seemed to care." He waved his hand at Anya to prevent her from saying anything on the use of bunny and cute in the same sentence.

"I see," Giles said noncommittally, not really listening. He was staring at the image in the book, pensive. The Scooby gang let out a communal groan.

"How come we can be researching all night, in a big group of, what I thought, were reasonably useful brains at this point, and not find anything but you sit down for two minutes, fresh from the shower, and find something terrifying or potentially life threatening?" Xander moaned, the voice of the group.

"I said no such thing. I only said 'I see'. How does that translate to…" he looked from one face to the next, then nodded, "I believe I may know what kind of demon this is, as far as how it came to be here. Not why or how to be rid of it, but yes. It is a rather… disconcerting bit of information. If you don't mind," he motioned for a big book on the table, and Xander got it for him. Flipping through the pages, he stopped at a picture of a strange looking goblet. He stood, presenting the page to the assembly. They all gathered a bit closer, even Spike, looking up at Giles expectantly.

"It's a summon," he began easily, as if he had prepared this presentation for them, "this chalice is the key to the ritual. It's mostly a vampyric practice, and though the records of it are scarce at best, it seems to be focused on, rather unsurprisingly when you think about it, brute strength. With the proper ingredients, a vampire or demon can summon little minions for themselves. There are, as I said, very few records of this summon even taking place, though many have tried, and fewer still of an actual success. I doubt I have the volumes here, in fact. Considering how fastidiously the Watchers of past generations have kept their records, it's actually very interesting that there are still such glaring holes in-"

"Giles," Buffy cut in, as if to wake him up, "the point?"

"Ah, yes, I forgot informational exposition is the bane of your young lives. Well, then, let's see. Uh. Ah. Yes. Here," he showed them a page that had absolutely no pictures on it, a few flips from the image of the goblet, written in what was clearly a language none of them understood. Six pairs of eyes stared at him, none of them impressed, "it tells of an incantation, and outlines the requirements for the rather temporary summon. It's not too specific, but it does describe a demon who is all strength and no brain. Apparently the summoner must supply that part."

"No wonder vamps have such a hard time with it," Xander grinned. Spike shot him a withering glare, which glanced off harmlessly. The vampire said nothing, though, just slouching back in his seat unhelpfully and folding his arms over his chest.

"Yes. Well, it's not just that," Giles said, taking his own dig at the only vampire in the room, "there is also the matter of a sacrifice. One of the ingredients, a very important one in fact, is human blood. But it must be fresh, and it must come from a willing sacrifice. No spells or delusions. No tricks or surprises."

"You found all of this information in two seconds, in a book we already looked through…" Xander folded his arms over his chest, eyeing Tara, who the book had been closest to, "how did you miss that, anyway? It's clear as day, on a page with no obvious references to the beasty we saw, in tiny little faded text that isn't anything close to English. Really, Tara, you need to step up your researching game."

"I'm sorry, I guess my… Arabic? Is a bit rusty," she said, smiling pleasantly.

"Sanskrit, actually," Giles corrected, unaffected. He was bending to pick up another book, barely paying attention to their conversation.

"Does anyone else get the tingly feeling that Giles is just making it all up, just on the spot, and we're been duped this whole time? I don't think he can read all these foreign languages. I mean, he can speak dead languages but not German? Come on, you have to admit that's pretty fishy."

"Oh no," Giles said, flipping through another book, his tone listless, "they're on to me at last."

"Are you even English, you big phony?"

"Guys? Focus," Buffy said, though she was grinning, "Giles, what do you mean 'temporary'? And do you have any idea who could have summoned it, if it's so hard? Or why?"

"Well," he replied, feigning an American accent for Xander's benefit, though he dropped it before the end of his first sentence. It was enough to get Xander, Willow, Tara and even Anya giggling and whispering jokes to one another in conspiratory tones, hoping not to be told off by Buffy again. They were like school kids avoiding the teacher's eye and ear, "I'm not sure, I'm afraid. I'll have to do a bit more research, but we're on the right track. It must have been a vampire, using the energy from the Hellmouth to its advantage. The perfect catalyst for dark magic, really, particularly summons. It's the matter of the willing sacrifice that has me perplexed. Perhaps Spike can do some rounds and see what he can learn on the matter?"

"From all my vampire mates, hm? The ones I spend so much time playing with, and living a carefree, loving existence with? Playing cards. Hanging out in dark alleys. Eating helpless maidens together. That lot?"

Giles looked at the vampire, eyebrows high, expectant. Spike chewed on his lower lip, then nodded. "Yeah, I'll talk to them. See what I can dig up."

Giles nodded, then looked at Buffy, "it might be prudent for you to track down the demon you injured. I have a feeling there may be more than one about. With the summon being as difficult as it is, it strikes me as odd that they would only try for one."

"Wait, what do you mean? It's not a 'one-human, one-demon' kind of deal?" Buffy folded her arms over her chest.

"No, I don't believe so," Giles sank back down into the sofa, glancing back down at the book in his hand to reread the sparse information he had gleaned from the ancient passages, "it seems that the chalice measures the required amount of blood of each summon. With enough fresh blood, a demon or vampire might be able to create a small horde of these things. From just one human sacrifice. It says something about controlling them, but I can't be sure. The period in which blood goes from 'fresh' to 'useless' is quite short, thus adding to the complications. Still, it may have been possible for whoever it was that made the one you fought to make more. Just take a look around, and be careful."

Buffy nodded. The two shared a look, the first time their eyes had made contact since the fight the night before. An apology flickered over Buffy's face, and Giles looked down. He drew a deep breath and looked up again, only to find she had turned her head away. Grimacing, the Watcher ran his hand through his still damp hair and then stood abruptly. Hesitating awkwardly as everyone looked at him, he cleared his throat and excused himself in mumbles from their company, retreating for the second time into the kitchen. Bewildered, but not too concerned, the team went back to their planning.

"Xander and I could stay home and watch the fort," Anya offered uselessly, "because…" it looked like she might try a bit of tact, but then she shrugged and grinned, "we haven't been able to sleep together in a few days, and it's getting lonely."

"That's okay," Buffy said, trying not to look as creeped out as her shuddering made it seem, "I think I can handle it. So Spike will go info-hunting tonight, and I'll take a look around for that demon. I think I saw where it was heading to. Xander, you can play hooky with Anya for the night."

"I would not sell my body to him!" Anya looked insulted, and Xander patted her hand.

"Hooky. It means taking the night off. Not… hooker."

"Oh. Of course, if you wanted to play either one, I'm not really against it. In fact, many of the women seeking vengeance were ladies of the evening, and I've seen a lot of their tactics for sales and satisfying their clien-"

"And Tara and I can look from some sort of banishment, or counter spell for the summon. Or something?" Willow offered, trying to steer the conversation away from the unsavory. "I-if you think that would be helpful, Buffy?"

"Sure, give it a try, Willow. We don't really know what we're dealing with right now, but if we can just magic it away that will save us a whole lot of time and effort." Willow smiled, looking at Tara, who nodded her consent. With all their missions in mind, they were fired and ready. Unfortunately, it was a bit early in the day for hunting or for vampires to be walking outside, which put a damper on their energy. Looking around, Buffy was almost relieved when Giles returned to the room, holding what appeared to be a fresh cup of tea.

"We've got a plan," she said, looking up at him carefully. He nodded, not sitting down. He remained behind the sofa, as if to keep a barrier between them. Sipping at his tea, he raised his hand to keep her from elaborating.

"I heard. I was just in there, after all. Sounds fine to me."

"You don't have anything to add? No more useful bits of information or warnings?"

"Not at the moment, no. I'll have to do a bit more digging before I can give you anything more to worry about."

"Are you okay, Giles?" Anya asked suddenly. She had not been with Buffy, Xander and Willow over the last couple of days, and had no idea what was causing so much tension in the room. She swatted back at Xander when he tried to hush her, not taking her eyes from Giles, "you look rumpled."

"Perhaps I am," he said coolly, smiling in an effort to placate her and show he wasn't all that rumpled, "I think I'll be fine after this cup of tea. I'm not used to having my morning so rudely and strangely interrupted by a house full of inconsiderate young-" he looked at Spike and Anya, "-and old… ah… adults."

"We didn't want to wake you up," Willow offered, her expression somewhere between sincere and mocking.

"_Too_ considerate, then," he obliged, rolling his eyes, "in any case, if we're done here, I should like a quiet cup of tea. You lot must have classes or… lives… that take place outside of my living room. We can reconvene later, if it suits you all. I'd like to be there when you hunt for the demon that got away, Buffy. I'll do a bit more reading and call you should I find anything useful."

"Right then!" Xander said, bouncing to his feet and clapping his hands. He looked around with forced excitement, "we're getting kicked out."

"In essence, yes. But to be fair, you were never invited in, so really I'm just getting rid of heathen intruders, determined to ruin my morning. You won that round, but you shant have my afternoon. I suppose we're restored the balance now. Out with you."

"Sounds fair to me," Xander said, shrugging. He took Anya by the hand and, clapping Giles on the shoulder as he passed, nearly making him spill his tea, made his way to the door. He held it open for Anya, and then Willow and Tara. Buffy indicated for him to head out without her as she lingered near Giles. Circling around the sofa, she moved to stand next to him, looking up at him after a long moment of awkward silence.

"We're moving on," he assured her, patting her arm. She smiled a thank you and moved to the door, closing it firmly behind her. Giles stood with his cup, blinking at the last of the house guests he had never planned on entertaining. Spike stood from his corner, moving to the sofa and flopping himself down across it, sighing and getting himself comfortable. Giles tilted himself forward, peering over the back of the couch and glaring down at Spike expectantly.

"It's day light," Spike said, not opening his eyes, "I got here when it was dark. I'm going to leave when it's dark, thank you very much. Where's the remote for the TV?"


	3. Best Laid Plans

**(Sorry that took so long. Anyway... here's chapter three. Thanks for the reads and comments so far. ^^)**

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Chapter 3: Best Laid Plans  
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"I don't understand why they're still together."

Giles did not look up from his work. He was seated at his desk, papers and books surrounding him, his left hand tapping his pen thoughtfully on his notebook while he rubbed his eyes with his right, sighing into his palm. Comments like that had been filtering back to him for most of the afternoon, his uninvited guest investing himself in every random television show he clicked to as the hours marched by steadily, though never fast enough. Headache throbbing to his pulse, filling his ears with the beat and making it near impossible for him to focus on his work, Giles was nearing his breaking point.

"They must love each other quite dearly," he offered, knowing full well that the vampire wasn't actually talking to him, but talking out loud for the sake of hearing his own voice. Spike was driven by an innate desire to annoy whoever was closest to him, or so Giles believed, and it was his misfortune to be trapped in a room that was increasingly feeling far too small. He tried to force himself to work, picking up his notebook and scanning through pages of nearly indecipherable notes and scribbles. Each one he had written with absolute certainty he would remember what the short hand was. He really had to stop listening to himself.

It turned out he was a liar.

"Yeah, but how is that enough? Look, she's gone and had a baby with the thick-haired bloke's brother. He knows she lied about it, and now he's willing to go to jail for murder for her, even though she killed the brother she had an affair with in the first place. Out of jealous, no less. Jealous rage. As in, she didn't like the idea of the _brother_ with anyone but her. That doesn't strike me as particularly loving of her. Though, she's got a great 'get out of jail free' card in this poor slob."

"Well then perhaps he loves her blindly. Surely _that's_ something you can understand, at least?" He snapped back, not having asked for a recap of the soap opera's events. He didn't even know which one Spike was watching, and had no hope of following the ridiculously convoluted tales of its characters from the vampire's pronoun confused ramblings. "Being stupid in love? Or lust. Perhaps she's good in, uh, in bed."

Giles didn't notice Spike peeking over the top of the sofa, glaring at him for his crack about being stupid in love. The vampire sank down behind the sofa slowly, returning his attention to the television because he didn't want to miss anything important. He tilted his head, nodding. "She is pretty hot," he concurred. The soap opera drawled on melodramatically, overly emphatic music filling a particularly important moment of plot. Spike let out an 'ooh', but a cough From Giles told him the Watcher did not care to know what just developed.

"It's almost sundown, you know," Giles said, dropping his pen removing his glasses, rubbing his reading-sore eyes ruefully. A sound of theatrical munching and pleasurable moans were his response. The Watcher cringed, trying his best not to picture the vile concoction of weetabix and blood he knew the vampire was so loudly savoring. It was harder still not to think about the bowl and spoon that was being ruined by the thoughtless house guest. No amount of cleaning would ever make them fit for use again, and Giles was certainly not about to try in the first place. The vampire knew it irked the former librarian, which is why he made sure the bowl was visible whenever they were talking.

"Almost isn't good enough, Rupes," the peroxide blond said with a shrug, wiping blood from his mouth with what appeared to be a tea cozy pilfered from the coffee table. Giles glared. The vampire hauled himself to his feet, the final contents of the bowl sliding around dangerously as he tilted it carelessly. Drawing a sharp breath and holding it, the Watcher found himself doing everything he could not to rise to Spike's attempts to irritate him. Dropping the bowl in the sink, not bother to even think about rinsing it off, the vampire moved casually past Giles and took a careful peek outside. It was already dark enough for the nigthcrawlers to start their prowls. Sighing, having such a pleasant evening in with his fellow Englishman, he bemoaned the idea going out and doing something potentially helpful. But if it was what the Slayer wanted, he would go, an obedient puppy in that regard. "Alright, so it is good enough this time. But don't think you've won. Right, I guess I'm off then. Be a sport and let Buffy know where-"

"Just go, for the love of all things good and sane," Giles said, removing his glasses again, this time as an expression of frustration. He pointed them at Spike, "I think it best if you take time from your busy schedule and find her for yourself, if you have something meaningful to tell her. Honestly, I don't think she gives a toss where you are at any given point in time, so I wouldn't worry myself about it if I were you. Just get gone and do try to find something useful before getting distracted by card games, televisions in windows or some other incredibly distracting shiny thing."

"Bloody hell, reign it in old man. You could at least pretend to like me, for the sake of the kids. I am doing you a favor here, without asking for any money or compensation in return. The goodness of my heart and all that."

"Your non-beating heart, and soulless body attached, you mean. You're doing it because you fancy Buffy, and we all know it. Now quit wasting your time and mine and get out of my house. Lord knows you'll be back, asking for that compensation you so adamantly decree you don't want."

"Well," Spike said gruffly. Giles looked at him in surprise, taking a step to the side as the vampire brushed by him. It seemed the Watcher had struck a nerve, which he hadn't been expecting to do. Usually his words, threats, jokes and jabs glanced off the vampire uselessly. As they often did with everyone else he knew. Blinking, a bit ruffled by this minor victory, though he wasn't sure he could consider it even that, he moved to hold the door open. Spike was through the door way before Giles was needed, the door slamming back against its hinges before the Watcher caught it.

Outside, Spike turned, walking backwards and as he glowered at the human standing in the doorway, raising two fingers on his hand, palm facing toward himself. Giles pursed his lips, unamused. The vampire turned around, sharp on his heels, and moved off with the speed and alarming grace that was required of the undead and Giles slammed the door shut, sighing and returning to his desk. He sat down heavily, sliding his glasses back onto his ears, and looked at the mounds of useless research in front of him. Without a solid lead, he was just digging in the dark. He had his theory, but there was so little information on the ritual itself he could literally search no further. His books and memory exhausted, he was at a dead end.

And now he was distracted by Spike's reaction. He couldn't decide if he was feeling guilty about snapping, or vindicated. If the latter he had imagined it would feel better than it did, and yet he couldn't admit to the former because his pride was too great. Rumpled, regardless of how he titled it, he simply could not bring himself back into his work zone. He stood, grabbing his coat and a stake, and moved to the door. Maybe joining Buffy a little early would help job his work ethic. He stopped, abruptly remembering his notebook, and went back for it, fumbling with the pen before it finally found a home in his pocket. Notebook under his arm, keys in hand, he nodded, sure he had everything, then left.

He forgot to lock the door behind him.

Remembering where they had argued previously, he quickly spotted Buffy on patrol. He called out to her before approaching, remembering many painful times of forgetting to announce himself as a friend before interrupting her hunting sessions. And that was very much what this was, or so her expression and body language said. He placed a hand on her shoulder, saying her name yet only managing to get the first syllable out before he was lurching forward, his feet suddenly over his head, flipped over her shoulder and landing hard on his back. The wind rushed out of his lungs forcefully, leaving him squeaking a high pitched gasp as Buffy brought a stake to his chest, poking him just hard enough to break the skin before she stopped her attack.

They stared at each other for a long, tense moment. His eyes were wild with aggravation and panic, though the latter was fading as the former strengthened. She had known it was him, he had made sure of it! He had not erred on the side of caution just to be beaten up anyway. Still, he took her hand when she offered it, grunting a bit as she tugged him up too fast for his taste. Groaning, placing his hands on his back and stretching painfully in a vain attempt to realigned his bones and internal organs, he eyed her chidingly.

She lowered her eyes, and he saw she was trying not to grin.

"Oh, yes, I can see how this is amusing. Almost staking your Watcher who is not, in case you were confused, of a vampyric or demonic nature. Best joke I've heard all day, to be sure," he found the corner of his lips curling upwards against his will, though he was determined to lecture her, "You must be more aware of your surroundings Buffy! It's not enough to know someone is near you, but to know if that person is a threat or, as in this case, someone who has clearly wasted a lot of time and breath trying to teach you these very basic lessons in vampire slaying."

"Okay, I get it, I'm sorry. I wasn't listening. Those demons, they don't make a lot of noise. I thought I saw one around here, and I was trying to see if I could see it moving. Plus, you're not supposed to be here for another hour. You really shouldn't drop in on people unannounced. It's rude. And you can get hurt."

"Duly noted," Giles wheezed, leaning back until his back made an unpleasant noise and he felt a rush of relief through. He heaved a sigh and looked at her, one hand still on his back, "well, then, besides an unequivocally harmless Watcher, have you found anything in your search that might be of use to us?"

"Are you implying you're useful?" She quipped, grinning. He looked hurt and she frowned playfully at him, "oh, don't make that face. You're supposed to be the grown up, responsible one, remember? I'm just a reckless kid. Okay. Well. I was chasing one, but I think it went back to the warehouse."

"Warehouse?" he was having a tough time concentrating, his wounded pride difficult to ignore. There was also the hole in his shirt, and the small dot of blood that stained it just enough to be annoyingly noticeable.

"Yeah. These guys are freaky, Giles."

"How so?" He fell in step beside her, not realizing they were walking. She led the way and he followed on instinct.

"They're just… little monsters. Animals. It's like they're not even thinking. They just attack and they don't quit unless they get hurt, and then they run away. I can't kill them."

"Hm. And where do they run to? Have you been able to follow…?"

"Warehouse. Mentioned it before."

"Ah, yes," he pushed his glasses further up his nose, surprised to find them still on his head, "well, my research has been largely useless, but this behavior does seem to correspond with what little information I've found. They're most frequently described as hive-minded, ruthlessly following the orders of their summoner or, to keep the allusion to creatures like ants or bees in tact, their-"

"Queen."

"Yes."

"If it is a vamp, I doubt he'll like that title."

"Unless it is a female vampire,' Giles said playfully. He was struck by and idea and pressed on, ruining what had once hoped to be a joke about vampire sexism by turning it into a theory, "which might explain how it was able to seduce one, or perhaps more, willing sacrifices. A female form is, by nature, more trustworthy by simple aesthetics. With promises of power or greater glory to an impressionable mind, a female might more successfully collect a following. Perhaps even on a cultish level, with eager participants engaging in a ritual of blood to further empower their queen."

"It's cute in a really creepy way when you get excited about mass murder and blood letting," the Slayer said flatly, grinning coyly. Flustered, the older man clicked his tongue behind his teeth and cast a glance around. He wondered when he had started walking, then spotted what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. The district they had moved into was derelict, though not too far from the grounds they had been patrolling these past two nights. It was the perfect place for bad guys to gather.

Slowing, the two took shelter behind a tree in order to stake a watch on the building. There was movement inside, but neither could see into it very well.

"I think we should make a house call," Buffy said, more of a note than a suggestion. She was already moving from behind the tree, and Giles had to reach for her arm to catch her, not wanting to raise his voice.

"No, I think we should gather the others. Strength in numbers. Besides, we have no clue what could be waiting in there, and the idea of attacking something that may very well be far too strong for you is not what I call a good game plan. We should definitely find the others. They'll be waiting for us soon, anyway."

"Or I could just go in there, get the work done and call it a night. That's kind of what I normally do, anyway."

"Buffy-"

"Hey, part of being a leader is making my own decisions, right? You're my Watcher, not my boss. You wanted responsible Buffy. Well she comes with a clause that keeps her friends out of danger. So you stay here, and I'll go peek in on our new friends. See if they're throwing a house party and if it's big enough to crash. Of it gets too rough I'll get out. It's just a bit of recon," she smiled disarmingly, which only made Giles more nervous and oppositional. She was gone before he could protest, though, her confident strides taking her to the building quickly enough.

Torn between following and staying where it was safe and, more importantly, where he knew he was right, Giles bounced back and forth one his feet in a physical manifestation of his inner turmoil. With a grown he followed her, not moving half as gracefully, ducking himself low as he neared the window she was crouching under.

"This has my every sensory input screaming 'trap', Please be careful while barreling in there with nothing but brash recklessness guiding you to what may well be-"

As he spoke, Buffy moved to the door. She could hear him, of course, but it didn't really have any affect on her. She knew what he wanted, but wasn't interested in listening, so she phased him out. Giles followed her, standing defensively close, though he wore a less than intimidating expression of exasperation and defeat as Buffy kicked the door in and revealed the two humans to a room full of demons. On a glance they could count at least four of the crawling, monstrous summons. They were moving around, scuttling back and forth, building a nest inside the building. There might have been more in hiding. The interior was mutilated, filled with a thick, slimy substance that seemed to harden and fortify the hive. There were burrows in the ceiling, and Giles looked up to see at least three more demons crawling effortlessly on the ceiling, upside down, moving into and out of the holes.

"I can see why this was such a good plan," he said, tilting his head as she glared at him. A loud sound, somewhere between a roar and a screech, penetrated their ear drums and made them both clasp their heads in pain. The demons all reacted, but not with the same violence as the humans. To them it was soothing, a command from their beloved leader, and they were all too eager to comply. Far too many demons turned their attention toward the two intruders, growls and the sound of claws scratching over what was once a concrete floor before it was torn up replacing the ringing in their ears.

Buffy recovered first, stepping forward to fend off the first demon to reach them. She punched it square in the jaw and it recoiled, only to be replaced by two more. Giles came to her aid, drawing the attention of the one remaining on the floor as two dropped from the ceiling to surround him. Buffy had her hands full with four, though she was battling as confidently and skillfully as ever. If she was worried about the odds she didn't look it, though the same couldn't be said for her Watcher.

"Buffy!" He yelled, managing to pull his wooden stake, not half as effective here as it would be on a vampire but still a pointy weapon he could use, from his jacket. He found the demons to be thick skinned, and went for what vulnerable spots he could see. One leapt at him while the others circled and he sidestepped out of its path, wrapping his arm around its neck and jabbing the stake into its eye. It howled and the other two charged. Giles shoved the wounded one into them while stumbling back. "We need to get out of here! Now!"

Buffy had a demon in a head lock, wrestling it valiantly in an effort to get her hands in a place to break its neck. It was ferociously determined to break free, bucking and clawing at her wildly, screeching. The others were kept at bay by the stake, Buffy coming to the same conclusion as Giles and having already poked out both the eyes on one of the demons. She finally snapped the monster's neck, letting it drop in a heap in front of her while the remaining three, including the blinded one, circled closer. She was almost certain they could handle it when another mind numbing roar exploded in her ears, and she was sent reeling into a wall. Blinded by the pain of the sound, she squinted across the warehouse and saw a large figure looming, blurred, at the far end of the building. It was clearly much bigger than the summons, and it stood perfectly upright. It raised a clawed hand and pointed at her.

"I think you might be right about that," she said, swallowing hard as the monsters responded to the order of their leader, forming a line in front of the two humans. Giles stumbled to Buffy, his ears bleeding. She noticed that her own were, too. She grabbed onto his arm and dragged him toward the door which, not surprisingly to either of them, was blocked.

"Great plan, this." Giles said ruefully as they turned toward the leering demons, raising their fists and weapons. It was going to be a hell of a fight.


	4. Hell of a Fight

**(I'm at the end of term for college right now, so I'm a bit pressed for time. Updates will continue to come at unseemly hours of the night, but hopefully they'll come quicker as school winds down and I head into Spring Break. Thank you for your views and your reviews! Please keep them coming. It's fun to hear back from you guys. Now, on to the fight!)**

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Chapter Four: Hell of a Fight  
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"Remind me again," Giles said, grunting as he slammed his fist into the leathery face of a demon that was trying to bite his hand off in the process, "about that clause you mentioned earlier?"

"You can do the 'I Told You So' dance after we get out of here," Buffy snapped back, taking two demons by their heads and colliding them together with almost comical affect. They stumbled back, one falling, the other walking on three legs as it gripped its new concussion welt with the fourth. They didn't seem to be getting anywhere. For every demon they triumphed over in hand to hand combat another one stepped forward, and it was soon apparent that the ones they knocked down didn't stay that way long. They just got back up and went to the back of the line, waiting for their next turn at the intruding duo.

Neither had any viable weapons left to them. Their stakes were spent, all heavy objects within grabbing range already used and throw away by the demons, or protruding from their calloused flesh. Giles even used a pocket knife he had not remembered bringing with him, slitting a demon's throat only to have it laugh at him and spit the blood it was drowning in into his face. That only prompted the Watcher to pull the cloth he used for cleaning his glasses out and stuff it into the demon's mouth.

Buffy was having a bit more success, as far as making lasting damage. Though none of them seemed willing to die, she broke more bones and smashed more muscles than her older male counter part could manage. The demons were no less deterred, and seemed to be drawn to her impressive power. They fought viciously, one on top of the other, some hurting themselves or each other in their wild effort to get to her. The scales weren't balanced, Giles fighting a fraction of the horde, and often having to grab a demon to get its attention off of his Slayer. An action which he never failed to regret. The two managed to close their ranks, standing back to back as the demons, all looking the worse for wear yet showing no signs of stopping,

"Are you okay?" Buffy asked, not looking back at him. He was leaning back on her heavily, but she supported him without complaint. His scoff was enough of an answer. Frowning, the Slayer looked around. There had to be some way to escape. Unfortunately she only saw things that made their situation seem even more dire. Like the fact that they had been herded into the center of the warehouse, far from the entrance, and the demons were not wantonly surrounding them, but in ranks. The large demon was looming close, watching impassively from a small distance. She knew there was a cue it was waiting on.

She just had no idea what it was.

"We must escape," Giles said breathlessly, not having anything useful to fill the silence with. The obvious statement fell on deaf ears. Buffy watched the large demon, knowing it had to be the Queen they had been pondering. Not a vampire, that was for sure, and the gender hardly seemed to matter now. It was big, ugly, and covered in dangerous looking spikes that she could imagine were not just decorative. It had large claws and threatening, dark eyes, with skin that looked even thicker than the hive minded minions. It met eyes with her, and, though its face was grotesque, she could see it sneering. She scowled challengingly and it moved toward them.

"Whoops," she said, pursing her lips. Giles turned, looking over his shoulder in confusion and concern. His eyes followed her stare and his jaw fell as the large demon parted the ranks and moved toward them. Giles turned, standing now directly beside the Slayer. Though he was much taller than the girl next to him he was not spared from having to tilt his head up to keep his eyes on the demon's face. Both humans swallowed hard.

"Have we tried running yet?" The Watcher asked.

"Nope."

"Let's do."

"Good idea."

They turned in unison and charged for the door, swinging punches with all their might to barrel their way through the line of demons. Their panic almost paid off, the demons giving way before them and actually granting them a few good feet of hopeful strides toward the entrance. Then the demon let out an ear splitting screech and Giles felt his legs turn to jelly. He hit the ground hard, hands over his bleeding ears, yelling with the sound. Even Buffy stumbled, her hands instinctively flying to her head, and she blindly fumbled a few steps before stopping and whirling around. The Queen was shockingly fast. It had her by the neck before her senses returned, crushing her windpipes and hoisting her off the ground with absolutely no effort.

The Watcher allowed his instincts to take over, his need to protect his Slayer driving him to his feet. He leapt onto the demons back, grabbing wildly at its face as he latched on to it. His fingers groped uselessly at the Queen's face, bloodied nails clawing at its eyes and mouth. It had no nose, but he imagined he would have gone for that, too. The demon let out a different sound, an angry bellow, and dropped the Slayer, reaching behind it to try to rid itself of the pest on its back. Buffy was quick to seize the opportunity, tackling the Queen low on its midsection, since that was really the only area she could reach.

Off balance, the three of them fell into a heap of thrashing limbs and grunts of pain and exertion. Giles rolled from the fray, holding his left hand close. The demon hadn't taken too kindly to the intrusion of fingers, however accidentally, into its mouth and did what came naturally, leaving Giles with a bleeding palm. Its teeth were small, and the Watcher imagined he now knew what it would be like if he were bitten by a shark. The Queen was roaring, in pain or frustration neither human could tell, and it hauled itself to its feet, throwing Buffy a good ten feet before her feet even touched the floor. She skidded to a stop, blinking as she found herself not only upright, but well supported.

"Looks like I showed up for a party," a familiar British accent intoned almost whimsically. She saw Giles still on his knees near the Queen, some distance away. Blinking again, head muddled from the fight and the abuse of the screeches, she slowly realized that it was not her Watcher who had caught her. "You stay here, I'll get the old man."

The peroxide blonde vampire charged forward, long black duster billowing behind him as he picked up speed and closed the distance between himself and his new enemy in a matter of seconds. It was turning its attention to Giles, lifting its clawed hand high, but Spike made sure it never completed the attack. Jumping, almost missing, Spike caught the arm and pulled it back with all his might, hearing something snap. Though he was new to the fight it was a very satisfying sound. The Queen hardly seemed to notice, swinging around with its other arm and backhanding the vampire with bone crushing force.

As he stumbled back he began to think helping them really wasn't worth it. Not the best way to spend his night.

Giles, still reeling, looked around. The demon minions were all stationary, watching the fight but not offering any help. He understood that the queen must have ordered them to stand down, and had not yet decided they should rejoin. Or maybe it was just too distracted to issue the order. Either way, Giles saw an opportunity. He was barely on his feet when he moved, half dragging himself toward the line of demons. He found the one that had his pocket knife imbedded in it and, risking getting close, he pulled the blade free. It, remarkably and yet exactly as he had hoped, did not move to slaughter him.

The left-handed Watcher gripped the small blade in his bloodied hand, Turning and taking a breath. Spike seemed to have things in hand, and he needed a moment to refill his lungs before charging back into battle. Besides, Spike was a vampire. The undead could last a lot longer than humans could in a fight, if they knew what they were doing.

Spike, however, had no idea. He was just expecting to jump in, save the day, and then get the hell out of there. He didn't want to hang out with the demons, and he certainly didn't want to tango with the Queen, alone on the dance floor. And yet here he was, blocking devastating blows with his arms and punching at skin that he imagined would work brilliantly as a shield. Still, he kept his footing and engaged the Queen valiantly, not backing down and doing his damned best to bring the thing down. It never presented a weakness, though it appeared to be bleeding from the corner of its crooked mouth. Taking that as a good sign, Spike turned one of the Queen's strikes to the side and countered with a powerful punch to its midsection, right where he imagined its breast bone might be. Either it did not have one or he was bad at demon anatomy, because the attack only sent it back a step.

There was a beat, It looked at Spike, enraged. He looked at it, concerned. It roared at him, revealing rows of ugly, little teeth inside a surprisingly large mouth, and he grimaced at how ugly it was. No fear struck his unbeating heart, and the Queen seemed to take even more offense to this. It charged, stabbing its clawed hand forward as if it were wielding a sword. Spike snarled, grinning, and caught the arm, wrenching it sideways and using the Queen's own momentum against it. It stumbled forward, its shoulder rotating outside the normal range of a socket joint as Spike stepped back and around it. There was a sickening sound as it fell to one knee, pulling against the hold like it would rather rip its own arm off than be pinned. Buffy, recovered, grabbed hold of the other arm, wrenching it back and locking it in a firm grip, the two standing so close they could almost make the Queen's wrists touch.

And then suddenly it lurched backwards, pulling what were now clearly not broken and useless arms, as Spike had imagined it would be, forward as it throttled back. Spike was torn from his footing, launched forward like he was on the business end of a whip. He lost his grip and was sent crashing into a wall far across the room, near the entrance. Buffy joined him soon after, falling heavily on top of him, and Giles seized his opening to attack the demon again. He focused his strength and jabbed his little knife into the demon's side, expecting it to glance or break off against the thick leather skin. Instead it bit into the flesh, drawing blood that was a dark, almost purple black. It oozed over his hand, burning as it seeped into the teeth wounds. The Queen and Giles both yelled in pain, the Watcher stumbling back and just barely missing a violent swing of the Queen's fist, dodging completely by accident as he fell to his bottom.

Buffy and Spike ran forward while the demon was busy trying to use its clumsy, large claws to remove the little knife. They both seized hold of the Watcher and the three of them beat a hasty, limping retreat to the door. The monsters didn't follow. Taking their chances, the Slayer and Vampire burst into a run the moment they passed outside, the Watcher barely able to keep up with them and yet forced to by their holds on him. A distant, though still piercing, screech told them they would soon have company. Five or six beasts charged after them, very nearly catching them before coming to a sudden stop.

Giles stumbled and fell, breaking free of them and skinning his knees on the floor. Wincing, he looked behind him, concerned that he was about to be mauled, and spotted the demons prowling as if they were barred by some invisible fence. The Watcher stood slowly, taking a step toward the monsters. They growled at him dangerously, clearly wanting to rip his limbs off to use as toys. Already comfortable with their inability to attack, going by what had happened inside, he moved toward them. It was different this time. They definitely wanted to murder him, but it seemed like they were physically unable to draw any closer to him.

"How fascinating…" he said, drawing precariously close. He spoke through exhaustion, babbling, "it seems they're leashed, in a way, to that warehouse. That certainly marks it as the hive. Not that the interior threw that into question. The queen, what ever it is, must have been…" he bent closer to the demons, taking a good look at them now that he felt safe to do so. He made mental notes of everything, having left his notebook in his car, trying to find any particularly clear indications of what kind of summoning had created them. The demons jerked suddenly, as if reacting to some unseen prompt, and lunged at him viciously, inexplicably able to move forward about a foot. He was knocked back, a claw finding his arm but just managing to rip through the fabric of his jacket before he was literally thrown back and out of harms way by Spike.

He stood over the Watcher, looking impatient. Buffy drew close, offering the other human a helpful hand. Sitting on his butt, Giles looked up at Buffy sheepishly, "Fascinating." He took her hand with his right and she helped him to his feet. The three looked at each other, each one looking battered and drained. Spike scoffed and took a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it and taking a long drag of it, before looking back at the demons. He wasn't as interested in their inability to get closer as Giles was. All he knew was it meant they didn't have to fight any more, and that was nice. His shoulder was aching. He hadn't even bothered to take stock of what injuries he had accrued in his noble endeavors.

"I think we've over stayed our welcome. This lot looks ready to skin us alive. I don't think we should wait around for them to get the chance."

"Agreed," Giles groaned, rolling his shoulder back. His hand was burning mercilessly, but he knew the others were probably suffering with their own injuries and he didn't call attention to it. Hands in the pockets of his torn and frayed jacket, he nodded, "we should… meet up with the others. I'm sure we must be late now. A wonder they didn't come looking for us, as Spike did."

"I didn't," Spike said indignantly, "I was following a lead and saw you two had already screwed it up. There was a nice idea of 'the element of surprise' floating in my head, but you-"

"Where did you come from, then? Your timing is impeccable, for not planning to save us."

"You're welcome, I'm also so glad to offer my services, free of charge, because the gratitude is always so deep and sincere. Really, truly touching stu-"

"How did you know where we were, again?"

"If you cut me off one more tim-"

"Guys," Buffy separated the dueling children, sending them to their corners with stern glances. Giles turned away, looking at the demons again, and Spike growled once the Watcher's back was turned. Buffy sent him a second glare and he raised his hands in defeat.

"Fine. Are _you_ okay, then," he paused, then added pointedly, "_Buffy_?"

She nodded. She had taken a few too many blows, her chest feeling like it was about to cave in. Her knuckles hurt from smashing her fists against so many solid, leathery faces, and her ears were still ringing. She looked at Spike, finding some strange solace in the blood that was running down the side of his head, and the way his shoulders sagged despite his efforts to look tough. She noticed Giles was favoring his left hand, though he was also putting on a brave face. No one, it seemed, wanted to be the one to whine about the beating they had just received. Mostly likely because none of them were willing to admit this night was a defeat for them.

The Slayer, however, felt guilty. She knew the shock would wear away and her Watcher would address her about her poor decision making. She didn't need him to tell her she should feel responsible for putting them all in unnecessary danger. Already growing irritated with him, without giving him a chance to actually be irritating, she shook her head and tried to focus on the vampire.

"Fine," she answered after a pause that was just a few moments too long. Spike watched her curiously, then nodded.

"You look like you could do with a drink," Spike observed, hoping to change the subject and maybe distract the Slayer for whatever thoughts were making her look like she wanted to kick something. And it wasn't just out of fear because he was standing closest to her. Though he couldn't admit it out loud, he didn't like seeing her on the verge of regretting something. He grinned and looked over his shoulder at Giles, then looked back at Buffy with a childishly devious smirk.

"If we hurry we can ditch the librarian before his magic-gasm fades over that 'invisible leash' he was droning on about. Hit a bar? Tend to some bruises? A nice night out, to wind down after a big fight." He wasn't legitimately asking her out. He was offering her a joke, a distraction, and he was putting himself on a wire. She looked at him for a long, quietly contemplative moment and he suddenly found himself fretting that she would take him up on his offer. He had no plan for that decision, thinking it completely impossible, and his mind reeled as it struggled to supply him with some kind of back up plan. The best it could come up with on such short notice was for him to leave when she turned her back.

Panic was not something the vampire knew how to deal with. At least not this particular brand of it.

She was already walking away before his focus returned to the real world. He followed her closely, just on her heels, and, after a long moment, Giles turned to make an observation only to find himself alone. He spotted them in the distance and, heaving a sigh, he followed slowly. The demons remained stuck behind, straining against their invisible restraints as their prey vanished into the night. They snorted and raised their heads, hearing a silent call from their master now that the intruders had gone, and returned dutifully to their nest.

Inside, the Queen finally removed the knife that had been so irritating. It held the little weapon up to its eyes, glowering at the mixture of red and purple that dripped from the worn blade.


End file.
